


The Threat of Joy

by alberthammondjr



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), The Strokes
Genre: M/M, because guess who's overwatch trash?, but this is mainly a fic based off of the Threat of Joy MV, might as well put it into the tag, references to other media
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 08:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7795219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alberthammondjr/pseuds/alberthammondjr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Incomplete chapter. Published for the hell of it.</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. prologue

“Alright, cut.”

At the director’s words, I immediately dropped my shoulders and the pick I held tightly in my fingers escaped into the hollow body of the acoustic guitar as I relaxed. It had been a grueling few hours as I worked with the rest of the band.

We were working on a crazy music video. Of course it was crazy - Julian had bent and twisted the lyrics to OBLIVIUS to push an urgent plea for help. I couldn’t comprehend what he wanted to say with the video, but whatever he needed to do was a thing that would assist him in pushing the message.

When the director had waved his hand, I sat down on the ground and huffed a sigh.

“Good job guys. We’re gonna catch a break.” the director spoke again, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah, good job.” Julian echoed, flashing a smile towards me before laughing. “Let’s just hope it works this time.”

A relaxing silence overcame the room. Each and every one of us enjoyed the silence - until it was broken by the sounds of footsteps belonging to a sharply-dressed man in an all black suit. I looked towards Julian, who responded to my questioning look with a quick shrug and a gentle shake of the head. My curious eyes then studied the man in question as he parted his lips to take a silent breath before speaking.

“We’re going to need the footage from this video.”

“What?” Julian questioned.

“Who’s ‘we’?” the director asked.

The suited man looked disgusted at the director before snapping his head to look at the cameraman.

“It’s missing.”

“What?”

“The footage.” the cameraman replied, fear dominating his features. “It’s missing.”

Obviously, the man in the suit was not pleased. He raised his dominant wrist to his mouth and pressed against a hidden microphone with his other hand. “Secure the director.” he spoke, anger causing his voice to rasp ever so slightly.

Immediately, a swarm of riot-geared officers filtered through the background and blinded the director with an opaque black bag before dragging him off.

I shot up from my cross-legged position in terror. I took a few steps back before worryingly looking at Julian. He looked back at me, his worried expression matching mine as his attention snapped back to the suited man.

“Take the band too.”

Julian was the first target. Fear had frozen me in my place, but I eventually broke free of it. I unhooked the strap from the top of the guitar, paying no mind to the loud slam it had made as I madly flung myself at the two attackers.

My actions were in vain - for soon, I was subdued by another wave of unknown officers. I fought against their grip. No matter how hard I tried, I could not break myself free.

When the two assaulters dragged me into a dark corner, one covered my yelling mouth with a damp, odd-smelling cloth.

Chloroform.

I struggled to hold my breath, but instincts overtook me as I took in gasps of air through my mouth. The chemicals soon overtook me, and its numbing effects made me black out.


	2. chapter 1

When I had eventually came to, my head was pulsing as my body was shocked and shivering from the chill of my surroundings. The ground I laid on was hard and rough, and the closest thing that I could reach out to was a draping sheet. It felt cheaply made - like a factory reject of a dollar-store sheet set.

The sheet made me focus my attention on my clothes. They felt warm and fuzzy, making the chill of whatever room I occupied ever so slightly more bearable. The sleeves were ever so slightly longer than a short-sleeved t-shirt, and my pants were of a normal length. Tight cuffs tore into my ankles.

Before I cracked open my eyes to take in the world around me, I took in one deep breath through my nose. It smelt old and damp. Small hints of rot tickled my nose. I sneezed at the sensation before drawing a breath through my mouth. Aside from the odd sensation on my tongue as I did so, I tasted the ever so slight moldy taste that my smell hinted at.

Finally, I opened my eyes. At first only small slivers of light hit my eyes, but as my heavy eyelids parted to let in all of the light, different colors came into view.

The very first notable pattern was a slightly off grid right in front of me. It was insanely blurry, but as I sat up and rubbed my eyes, they revealed themselves to be bars. To the left of the bars was a large black box - presumably holding a lock of some sort.

That’s when it hit me.

I was in prison. It may have been a jail, but the sudden shock to my brain had amplified the fear tenfold.

Immediately I stood up. The sudden jerking movement made me dizzy, and I almost fell straight back to the ground as I stumbled towards the barred door. My hands wrapped around the slightly rusted bars, twitching ever so subtly at the coldness before they began to tug.

“Where the hell am I?” I yelled out, shaking on the bars. “Who the hell put me here? Why the hell am I here? I’m an innocent man! I demand to speak to my lawyer about this!”

My demands were met with no reply until a suited man with a hyperrealistic pig mask approached me.

“You’re finally awake.” the man spoke, laughing. I could only assume he was smirking underneath the mask.

“Why the hell am I in here and you’re out there? I’m innocent. I committed no crimes.” I snarled.

“You associate yourself with the man who leaked the secrets.” the pig-masked person replied.

  
“What?”

“You better enjoy your stay here, traitor.” the person snarled. “This’ll be your home for the next ten years.”

Ten years. Ten years.

The words rattled in my head as I stepped back in shock. I stared at the masked man as he walked away and sat down on my new bed - if you could even call it a bed - when he had disappeared from my sight.

As far as I knew, I was going to be trapped in my cell for the next ten years. Those ten years would be spent in solitude, not knowing anyone else in the damned facility. Those ten years would be spent doing the same repetitive tasks every single day without stop. Those ten years would be spent not knowing whether or not the other four were alive - whether or not Julian was alive.

On top of that, my career was ruined. Possible headlines ran through my mind as I placed my head in my hands. When - rather, if and when - I got out of the hellhole I was trapped in, I could never return to my musical profession. My name would be tarnished by the news of my imprisonment and my tunes would bring fear and disappointment instead of inspiring hope and joy.

My muddled mind filled with panic as I began to rock back and forth. Tears sprang to my eyes as my breath tightened, making it harder and harder to breathe as I fell back on the barely soft slab that only the strange would consider a bed. I curled up into a ball and continued hyperventilating and crying for what seemed like forever.

The single event that tore my mind off of panic was a rustling at my cell’s door.

“Get up, Hammond. It’s time to eat.”

I poked my head up as I observed my door sliding open. The man wore a uniform similar to the man in the mask’s, but he held no mask upon his face. I could see his hair was a short and soft brown, and his eyes were of an emerald green.

The gentle reminders made me think of Julian - the hair was just as dusty brown, and the eyes were as solid of a green as his. I couldn’t think of why he kept popping up in my mind, but I shook it out as I slowly unfolded from my bumbling mess and stumbled towards the guard (I presumed) that had snapped me out of my psychotic trance.

I followed the man in a very slow stumble that improved into a slow walk as I approached what I presumed to be the dining hall. Many people wore a uniform similar to mine - orange pants and a slightly lighter orange t-shirt. I tried to pick out familiar faces from the crowd but failed to do so as I was pushed to the kitchen line.

  
The trays were displayed fully prepared - salad, some sort of soup, a fruit, a slice of toast, and a dark cup of warm coffee. It didn’t impress me at all, and I would have refused to grab a tray if I wasn’t being observed. I begrudgingly grabbed a worn red tray of the meal and shuffled away towards the table with my head down.

I sat down quickly, and began consuming the dry and tasteless soup as quickly as I can. The quick and swift movements only ceased when I heard my name said just a few feet in front of me.

“Y’must be Hammond, huh?”

I looked up and spotted a taller man with charred hair and burnt skin around the scalp.

“What happened to you?” I questioned, my guard falling ever so slightly as his friendly smile showed a good intention.

“Ay, it’s jus’ a little accident. So, whatta you in for?”

“Pig-guy says it’s because ‘I associate myself with a traitor’. I never did though.”

“Owza, that’s a bad one.” the charred man replied, taking the coffee. “Forgotta introduce myself. Name’s Jamie Fawkes, they finally caught me.”

“With?”

“Blowin’ up the bank.” Jamie said, laughing. “After years’n’years on the run. Due to go next week.”

“What do you mean ‘due to go’?” I asked, taking a sip of the bitter coffee to wash down the scraps of soup.

Jamie cackled before scooping up the chopped fruit in the tray with a darkened hand before shoving it into his mouth - making me shiver. “I’m on death row, kid. Not long left to live.”

I felt needles spike in my system as hairs on my arms stood up in fear.

“Ay, but don’t worry about it mate. I won’t hurt ya, y’seem like a cool kid.”

I smiled ever so slightly before chipping away at the salad.

“Y’gonna have that?” Jamie questioned, motioning at the fruit on my tray.

“Go ahead.” I permissed, momentarily lifting myself from my tray to allow the other to take the food. He took it in the same way that he had taken his own fruit treats. The charred hand brushed gently against the salad, and I picked the two lone leaves affected by it and set it in the dirtied compartment that once held the soup. I then ate the rest of the salad - the only item on the tray that tasted remotely decent.

“Cheers, mate.” Jamie chimed, standing up - revealing a stumped leg supported by a worn metal pegleg dusted with what I presumed to be ash. He waved me a quick goodbye before limping away and leaving me with multiple questions. I wanted to speak out to him, but he disappeared from sight before I could get the opportunity to.

I sat for a minute more before getting up and disposing of all the scraps and tossing the somewhat clean tray and mug into the dirty dish bin before heading towards the exit.

“Have you finished? Dinner time’s not over, Hammond.” the guard spoke, pushing a hand out to stop me.

“Then how did you let Fawkes go?” I asked.

“He’s a special circumstance.”

I crossed my arms as I raised my eyebrows.

“And just because of your history, that doesn’t mean you’ll get special treatment either. Go sit back down.”

“I’m finished.” I said, asserting myself.

“Time isn’t up.”

“I’m... “ I attempted to argue, letting my arms fall down in defeat as I backed off. “Fine, whatever.” I added, going to sit back in my original spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incomplete chapter. Published for the hell of it.


End file.
